“Nothing will happen to her,” Lydia said with more confidence than she felt. “We have to stay calm. If she sees us worrying about her like this, that will not help things one bit.”
Archer nodded numbly. “I suppose. If I ever get my hands on that accursed woman.”
“I think you will have to get in line.” Lydia leaned against Archer without thinking. “I suppose we shall have to let those theatre tickets go to waste.”
“You should go. There is no reason you should miss out.”
“How could I go with Iris like this?”
“Both of you should go.” Cora’s voice sounded from behind them, making them both jump. “Iris is sick, but she’ll be furious if she finds out you missed the play because of her. Or she’ll feel terrible.”
“But—” Lydia began, but Cora cut her off. “You have been with her most of the day while we stopped Archer doing something stupid. Juliet and I will look after her. If anything goes wrong, we will send for you at once. But you heard the doctor, she is out of the worst, and the last thing she needs is you two feeling guilty.”
Lydia gave her sister-in-law a weak smile. “Well, I suppose I cannot argue with that.”
Archer had Mr. Lyall clean and lay out his dark blue tailcoat with a pair of black pantaloons. He was tucking in his cravat when a knock sounded at his door.
“The carriage waits for you, Your Grace,” Mr. Lyall said from behind his door.
“Thank you, Mr. Lyall.” Archer hesitated and then followed the man down the stairs.
“And Her Grace is with Lady Iris though Lady Cora is trying to encourage her to leave,” Mr. Lyall added.
“Very good, Mr. Lyall. That will be all.” Archer dismissed the man and rushed down the stairs, finding himself outside of Iris’s room.
Cora was standing in front of it and threw her hands up in the air. “Oh good, you’re here. Take your wife, and go to the theatre.”
Archer hesitated, looking between Lydia, his sister, and his niece. Iris’ eyes flickered open briefly and then closed as she made a brief squeak. Archer moved towards her, but Cora held up a hand.
“Dash, please. Let us look after her. We know what we’re doing. You and Lydia go out and have a nice night on the town.” Cora made a shooing motion. “Besides, Iris was chattering a few moments ago, so I’ve no doubt she’ll be right as rain after a good sleep.”
Archer swallowed and exchanged a look with Lydia. He knew how much she had been looking forward to this and knew that Iris would be furious at him for making Auntie Lydia sad.
“You send runners to the theater if she takes a turn,” Archer said and then swept out of the door with Lydia before they could change their mind.
In his distraction, he had not really paid attention to what his wife was wearing. But as he helped her into the carriage, his breath stuck in his throat. Lydia was wearing the brand-new dress they had purchased on their shopping excursion.
The dark red dress with roses adorning the bottom half of the skirt did not compare to its sketch counterpart. What Mrs. Barkley had created bolstered his wife’s confidence. Every line of her looked as though it had been carved by cupid.
She gave him a nervous smile, smoothing her dress self consciously. “Do I look all right? I could not decide what to wear, and I worried this might be too much, and then with Iris, I did not know if this was the wrong thing to do or if?—”
He cut her off, his voice hoarse, “You look divine, Duchess.”
“As do you, Duke.” His wife looked him over, and he felt her own appreciative gaze stretch across his skin.
Archer leaned back in the carriage.
“I hope Iris will be okay.”
“She will be.” Archer squeezed her hand. “My sisters are looking after her. You heard what Cora said; she was up just a little while ago.”
“I know, but…”
“I know.” Archer swallowed. “I suspect if we keep dwelling on her, that will dominate the entire evening.”
“Probably.” Lydia hugged her arms around herself, and without thinking, Archer draped his arm over her, letting her lean against him. His heart thundered in his chest so loud he was sure she must be able to hear it. “And she would not want that.”
“Wouldn’t she?” Lydia cocked an eyebrow.
